Friday, January 29, 2010

Rock Bottom

Last night I hit my rock-bottom. As I came home from work (and one useless night at the club that was), I washed up, ate, watched TV and lay down to go to sleep. As to be expected I couldn't fall asleep. I spent 3 hours trying to fall asleep, with my eye mask on, ear plugs in, sound machine on (why do I need it if I have ear plugs?), however sleep didn't come. I got up, seriously upset about yet again not getting my rest, took Xanax (that used to help me with falling asleep and staying asleep a little bit longer) and went back to bed. Same routine: eye mask, ear plugs, sound machine. No sleep. Got up again. It was morning already. I had big plans for the day- was going to meet up with S at the art museum and see an exhibition; maybe nice French bakery on the way; dinner in my fav restaurant later. Instead, here I was- sleep deprived, delirious, tired and uninterested. I started crying hysterically. S woke up, even though he was sleeping in the other room behind 2 sets of closed doors, and came to comfort me, bur all was useless. All I wanted to do is to get to my bottle of Xanax and take all the little pills so I didn't have to go through another one of sleepless nights after work, and zombie-like, entirely empty and unproductive days after. This has been happening to me too often. This scenario repeats itself every night that I come home from work. It takes me 3 hours to fall asleep (first I try it without pills, then get up and pop a Xanex or an Ambien), then 4 hours of sleep (or less) and I am up to do nothing all day. Nothing, but sit around on the sofa, wrapped up in my old white bathrobe, and watch Desperate Housewives for hours and hours at a time. Tired, comatose, uninterested. Does this life worth living?
I make between $2K-$2.5K working 3 nights a week, but do I enjoy any of the money? I surely spend a lot of money: just to think about all the energy and money I spend on trying to look good! My monthly hair and skin appointments cost me a fortune, so I keep on looking young. I work out religiously, often unwillingly, so my body stays in top shape. But what's the point? Do I get to enjoy my whipped into shape body? Do I have smooth, porcelain-like skin? NO! I look like an ugly zombie most of the time: my eyes are always red and puffed up, my skin is ashy gray, may hair is limp... I have lots of expensive nice clothes- but where do I ever get to wear it? No interest in dressing up, no energy for that. Old pair of jeans for going out, old sweatpants to stay in... I love art- but when did I last go to see a play or an art exhibition? My life is worthless. I think I hit the very bottom...
Wouldn't I be better off living in the outskirts of my city, paying half the mortgage I am paying now, owning no labels, driving a Honda, but working in an office, sleeping every night, having down-to-earth friends, having an always functioning brain, keeping interested?

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Helping and Not Helping

After taking another little break I am ready to go back to work and kick some ass. The break was necessary due to a major lack of sleep. I also needed time to breathe, take a look at my life and evaluate what's what once again. Working nights and not-sleeping days after has not been very healthy for me. It can't be easy for any one of us dancers to come home after 8 hours of screaming music, dancing, drinking and coming out with conniving ways to squeeze a buck out of this or that so-called gentleman. Plus, there are always intrigues among us girls. Is it even possible to stay out of them and focus only on work? Hasn't been so for me so far...

In my club, and in today's economy, making money solo is practically impossible. We have learned to pair up, or even triple up. If I am lucky to find a guy that has the money, and doesn't mind spending it, I do all that is in my power to bring a friend or two with me into the scenario; and the same will do my friends for me when they are luckier than I. And that's where all the intrigues start: who is that girl that is to be helped? When I help X, Y gets upset why is it not her. If I help Y she will try to bring with her her friend Z, and this might hurt the process because the customer might feel like he is being taken advantage of. If I try to bring XX she might fuck the situation up, because of what she might say or do, but if I don't help XX, she'll get upset because she helped me last week and I sort of owe her one.

This chick T always gets mad when she doesn't get helped. However she rarely thinks of anybody when she herself is having a good customer. One night she was having a really good night when most of us struggled. Later on, as we were coming home, she told me that she could have easily helped anybody- her guy was easy and wealthy, but decided not to, because girls weren't helping her. She has been helped by so many girls at different times! Couldn't she have found one out of almost 80 who worked that night that could have used her help? Well, fuck you too.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

First Dilemma of 2010

So it's pretty dead at work, first week of 2010. It's understandable though, people are recovering from the holiday season. Not like they partied that hard this particular season; the club was almost consistently empty-ish throughout the whole month of December. I did manage to meet the only fat goose that came by last night. I didn't make a killing with this one, but he still was pretty generous for a guy who didn't drink much and had no interest in neither cookies nor naughty stuff. Not like I volunteered to provide him with either, however I did offer to organize it. What a bad girl I am, honestly... Anyway, the guy had his one hour of squeaky-clean, wholesome fun, distributed his fat little bonuses to me and my girlfriend (we didn't even ask for it!), and suggested to make plans next week to meet up outside. So here is the dilemma: from what I know of that goose- he is pretty-pretty-pretty loaded. How do I play it so to keep the goose happy and myself nice and spotless?

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Bye-Bye 2009

So it's a beginning of the new year and time for New Year's resolutions. My resolution is to take it easy, dance-wise. It has gotten out of hands by the very end of 2009. Not that I worked so much more, but I certainly had much more intense nights. Last 3-4 weeks of 2009 turned out extremely profitable, but also mentally challenging. Every night I met a new group of customers easily persuadable to become no-good. Cookies? Hell yes! Yummy shots of tequila? Yes, please. 4 bottles of $700+ champagne? Why not?! More girls? Yes!! How about one more? Why not?! Credit card maxed out? Try another one. Another one has been maxed out since 3 hours ago? Here is another one... In other words- excellent 3-4 weeks for my finances, horrible for my state of mind. It's been at least a month since I have been able to fall asleep without Ambien/Xanax. My housekeeping hasn't been entirely neglected only thanks to my cleaning lady. Haven't been cooking, haven't read any quality literature, haven't enjoyed any aspects of my life. All I have been thinking/dreaming/hearing about was money. Money-money-money-money. Then drug-induced sleep. Then few hours of Desperate Housewives of Some County.. I am almost hyperventilating while writing about it now. So it is time to take it easy and breathe.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Fire in the Club

I almost burned down in the club last night. Around 2 am, in the middle of one of the busiest night of this Christmas season, right as I and my friend Ri were leading our customer to a private room, the fire alarms went off. Apparently something caught on fire in the basement of the club. What idiot was playing with the matches and why I will never know! I hope he/she was fired... Any way, so the club started filling with smoke, our personnel and customers are half-crazed with panic and excitement, Ri and I are thinking: Fuck, our private room might not even happen now, how rotten is that?! Here we have a perfectly nice, sweet customer, who, by the way, is carrying his own 'candies', and here the damn fire alarm goes off, and the club is filled with yukky smoke! So the fire people arrived and made us all leave the club and hang outside. I was wearing a tiny Santa skirt and Santa bra, and 6 inch platform shoes. 22F degrees outside. So last night was pure hell. They kept us waiting for a half of hour until we were let back in. About 100 half-naked dancers, most of them in stupid Santa get-ups, and just as many customers... Pure Hell!

Friday, November 27, 2009

MY Thanks Giving to Mr. Penguin

Emerging from a post-Thanksgiving food coma. Planning to waddle to work tonight and see if there will be any fat turkeys looking for a quality entertainment. I got a new pair of black fishnet stockings, you turkeys, so come over to my club tonight!

I got kind of spoiled a bit lately: two of my work comrades and myself managed to catch us some serious goose in murky waters of our club. We call him Penguin. Big shot in some bank, this guy lives far away form our city and comes here only every couple of weeks. But when he does come- does he spend money! Little elderly dude, looking like a perfect country bumpkin, this guys likes us three to get all dress up and doll up, and meet him in one of the fanciest restaurants, where we eat and drink like we haven't eaten or drunk in weeks. I guess he like to be seen in the company of three blondies... After we are done eating and drinking, we take him for his dose of our strippers' magic, after which we receive our bulging envelope and go home. Our goose spend upwards of $6000 on his nights out with us. Last week he partied with us three nights. Each of us made pretty serious $$$, while partying, eating and drinking... God Bless you, Mr.Penguin. I mean it! Can't wait for your next visit...

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Party in the VIP Room

Had an excellent night at work last night. Went to the room at the beginning of the night and came out only at the very end. There were 6 of us girls and only 3 guys. My guy was the 'money bags', he was paying for everybody all night and must've spent at least $18,000. He was young-ish and cute, Korean boy. Among the chicks that partied with us was Big T, who I brought in with me so I wouldn't have to deal with my guy on my own. Don't like one-on-one interaction in the room. I get bored.

At the end of the night I was expected to go home with him for a 'hard f**ing'. I gave him my phone number (why do I always do that??), and said that I'd come to him after work. Big T was supposed to come with us as well, and participate in the whole orgy experience. Of course, neither I nor Big T had any intentions in going anywhere but home. Promising and not delivering is a part of the game...

As I was leaving the club I saw my Korean and his friend waiting by the door. I freaked out: they were supposed to have been gone! They saw me exiting the club and jumping in a cab; no Big T next to me. As soon as I got in a cab the phone started ringing. They must've called me a dozen of times. Left 4 voice mails. I felt bad, shouldn't have led them on like that. But then again- c'mon! Private rooms are nothing but games.

I sent my Korean guy a text message saying that I needed to to stop by my house first and walk my dog. Later I sent him another message saying that it was getting late and we should reschedule. He called me back and left another voice mail. I still haven't listened to it: feeling guilty.